


Show Me the Way Home

by SSJGondorian



Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-22
Updated: 2015-10-27
Packaged: 2018-04-10 14:21:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4395191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SSJGondorian/pseuds/SSJGondorian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Overwhelmed by the stress of recent life events, a young woman takes refuge at a favorite childhood spot at the forest preserve. By accident she falls into the river and nearly drowns, only to be rescued by a man from another world on his way to Rivendell. He offers to take her home before joining the Fellowship and now she won't let him out of it when her memory beings to fade.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue – Positive Stress

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not claim ownership of the Lord of the Rings trilogy, The Hobbit, or the Silmarillion. I also do not claim ownership of Peter Jackson's films based on the aforementioned novels. There will be no monetary gain as a result of this fan-made work, and it is intended purely for entertainment purposes. Please, please, please don't sue me! I have so much student debt as it is...
> 
> I would like to say that I originally began writing this fanfic for personal pleasure. It was not my intention to ever publish it but after lots and lots of encouragement my friend convinced me to do it. Anyway, there always seems to be a deficit of good Boromance... Though I will say I have found a few good gems that I've really enjoyed and I realize maybe other people might enjoy this, too. It is not intended to be Mary Sue, and I genuinely do not believe it is.
> 
> Also, please feel free to provide constructive criticism - the best way to grow as a writer is to receive feedback. I'm also open to input in terms of the direction of the story – while I have already written a great deal, I find myself editing and re-editing all the time, so please provide feedback if you have any! Most of my ideas for the story come from discussing it with my friends and debating the possibilities. I'd love to do the same with my readers!
> 
> Anyways, this first chapter is just a prologue about my OC, which offers a little back story about her life situation directly before transportation to Middle Earth. However, if you prefer, you can skip it and still understand the story. Like I said, if you want to know the main character better, it should be helpful.

** Prologue - Positive Stress **

The morning air was uncharacteristically cool as a young woman stepped outside her door. A harsh wind whipped past and she shivered before turning to head back into the townhouse. It was late June and yet the recent stormy weather managed to bring the temperature down to the low sixties. She jogged upstairs to her room, the one with the walls completely covered with posters and wall scrolls: a map of Westeros hung next to a poster of Johnny Cash flipping the bird, beside a wall scroll of Vegeta, and beside that, a wall scroll of Link. At 22 years of age she still held onto her favorite tales.

She glanced at her cell phone sitting on her computer desk. A flashing blue light indicated a new text message. Her eyes went from her door to the phone, and she gave into the urge to check. It was a text from her good friend, Derek, which read:

> Catch later today? We have beeeeer.  
> 
> 
> PS: Andrew bought new arrows and a glove.

The girl smiled and quickly typed her response before setting the phone back down. She hesitated a moment and contemplated whether or not she truly wanted to leave her digital connection to the world at home. Suddenly the phone came to life, the strong vibrations rattling the entire desk as the Tristram theme song filled her room. "Aaron…" she muttered, and remembered why she intended to leave the phone behind, the reason she decided to go for a walk in the first place. Furthermore, the reason she moved back home with her father: after three years with the same man, she realized she could no longer tolerate his alcoholism. He, however, had no desire to end the relationship, and in the last week his calls and texts came endlessly.

She sighed, pulled on a brown zip-up hoody, and left the room without another thought about the phone. She would not allow herself to regret her decision – the change was difficult but good, her friends and family told her. Positive stress was the term they used in psychology, the kind that came from happy life events, like weddings or the birth of children. _Or breaking up with jerks_ , she added in her head. As she passed through the kitchen she stole a glance at a particular piece of mail she opened just that morning. Another bit of so-called positive stress…

That morning she received a letter of acceptance from her first choice of graduate schools. While this news was undoubtedly good, she found herself overwhelmed by the prospect of such a challenge. She would have to acclimate to a new school, new professors, and meet new people. Butterflies danced wickedly in her stomach and she averted her gaze. A walk was in order, a nice quiet walk, with no interruptions from Aaron, where should could gather her thoughts. She left the townhouse and locked the door behind her, setting out towards the little path through the woods just a few blocks away.

With the advent of her acceptance letter she also wondered whether or not she should leave her second job at the bicycle store. She began working there when she was just 17, a high school kid, and she knew she would miss the guys if she left... But the heavy course load she expected to receive in graduate school left her apprehensive about working fulltime. _Besides_ , she reasoned, _I still have my weekend job at the hospital._

She jammed her hands in the pockets of her hoody, disgruntled about her indecisiveness on the matter. Her friend Erin was looking for a roommate and she would happily oblige, but her weekend job alone wouldn't cut it if she had to pay rent; then add utilities, groceries, all those miscellaneous expenses into the mix, plus all the things she surrendered to Aaron that she would have to buy new, like dressers and cutlery. She could feel a headache coming on. Not only that, but she wanted to get ahead on her student loans from undergrad, especially now that she'd have to take out more loans for graduate school. She halted a moment. "But if leave the bike shop… ugh," she grunted. She continued to walk, turning off the sidewalk into the opening of the forest path. She could hear the river bumbling along next to the path, and her frown began to fade into a faint smile.

She always liked the little river – "The Mighty Duper" people called it in her hometown, the good old Du Page River. She'd waded through it with her brothers and the neighborhood boys too many times to count, as the water was shallow and the current gentle. She played and biked between the trees of the forest preserve just a little ways up the path – maybe her tree was still there, and she decided she would go and find out.

It took only a few moments for the river to come into view as the path leaned in closer to the water. The young woman stepped through the short foliage at the edge of the water and peered down at her reflection. Distorted as it was, she could see her oval-shaped face and straight nose, her hazelnut brown hair that went down just past her shoulders. A small smile crept across her lips; her bottom lip was fuller than the top, but both before and after braces people told her she had a pretty smile. A small, black ring pierced her bottom lip on the left side to match the black industrial bar in her right ear. She pushed her long bangs behind her ears and gingerly made her way back to the path, anxious to find her old spot in the forest preserve.


	2. Swimming to Middle Earth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would like to reiterate that this chapter dives right into the story. So if it seems like too abrupt of a start go back and read the prologue. Otherwise well... you'll just have to deal with it. Also, a brief physical description was included at the end of the prologue if you need a visual.

The young woman walked for some time before reaching the little forest park. She hiked down a few seldom trodden paths, muddy from the recent, heavy rainfall, until she found the big tree whose limbs reached out across the river. She climbed and lay down along a thick branch that hung high above the little rapids. Looking down she could see that the river had flooded and grown wild since the storm's passing. She turned onto her back and stared through the branches at the gray sky.

Would that she could hide away in her tree forever and forget her various cares and obligations. The silence that followed her decision to leave her cell at home was well worth missing a few text messages. Now she could hear only the gentle rumble of water rushing over rock and the chatter of birds and squirrels; all welcome sounds. The clamor of the roadway nearby was largely muffled. A small breeze picked up and she lifted her hand to feel it whirl between her outstretched fingers. After the breeze passed she let her hand fall to dangle limply at her side. She didn't know how much time passed before she felt her eyelids grow heavy. It couldn't hurt to shut them for just a few moments, just a few, and then she would head back home…

She awoke with the shock of being engulfed in violent, frigid water. Before she knew it, the river's unusually swift current began dragging her downstream. She had swum the river many times growing up, but she had never witnessed the river thrash along its bed so angrily. She tried to right herself but the rapids tossed her about like a rag doll, slamming her into rocks and pulling her beneath the surface. There was something unnatural about the state of the river she had always known to be so mild. In most places the river was shallow enough to walk along the bottom without the water coming past her waist. Now she found herself floundering to keep her head above the surface.

Everything transformed to a blur of white foam and sea green water. Each breath came at a greater struggle than the last. Soon her gasping breaths came less and less while the river continued to beat her down. Panic and terror overtook her thoughts as she desperately tried to claw her way back to the surface. She had always been good at swimming, why couldn't she right herself now? Perhaps it was a hallucination brought on by lack of oxygen, but a great, booming voice suddenly filled her head. It spoke in dark tongues that she could not understand. The last she felt was a sharp spike of pain in her skull, then blackness…

Next she knew strong hands were pulling her out of the water and she met the ground with a hard thud. The solid earth felt queer beneath her body, but the stillness offered more comfort to her than a mother's voice to her child. She sputtered and coughed into the dirt, too exhausted to sit up just yet. "Are you alright?" asked an unfamiliar voice. She felt the warmth of a hand against her back.

"I think so," she responded in a ragged voice before she coughed up the rest of the water in her lungs. She doggedly pushed herself up and took a look at her rescuer. He was handsome enough but his clothing reminded her of the Renaissance fair. Or perhaps he dressed that way because he was some kind of park ranger? He gave her an appraising look, apparently just as surprised by _her_ appearance. Despite his uneasy gaze, he unclasped his cloak and held it out for her to take.

"It would be best to use my cloak until yours has dried," he said. To match his Renaissance period clothing, he spoke with the appropriate accent. A wry half smile crept across her lips and she wondered if she had, indeed, stumbled upon such an event.

"Thanks," she said. She fumbled to peel off her soaked brown hoody. The saturated fabric looked almost black, and so did her hair that sat plastered about her cheeks and forehead. Once it came off, the man quickly draped his cloak around her shoulders and briskly rubbed his hands up and down her arms in an attempt to get her dry. "That's alright," she said, inching away from him, "I really appreciate that, and thank you for catching me but... I really need to get home, now." After handing his cloak back, she glanced around for a sign of the fair, but all around them were just trees and more trees. Save for the sounds of birds and the pattering of squirrels, silence filled the air. Even the faint hum of cars could not be heard.

"Do you live nearby?" he asked incredulously, and he too began to look around for signs of civilization. As far as he could tell the closest they were to anything had to be the Elf city, and he still had no idea where _exactly_ that was. He looked closer for pointed ears, but she appeared to be a young human girl.

She furrowed her brows, unable to detect anything remotely familiar about their surroundings. "I don't know..." she said quietly, spinning around in her confusion, "How far did I float? What town are we in?"

"There are no towns nearby that I know of," he answered slowly.

Her hand immediately reached for her cell phone in her back pocket, but then she remembered leaving it at home and that, even if she had it, it would have been ruined in the water. She growled obscenities to herself.

"Fear not, if you are lost you may travel with me," he offered. She stared at him pensively. It was then he noticed a small, black ring sitting upon her lip – a piercing similar to those seen more commonly amongst Southron people. However, the girl bore no other similarities to the Men of the South – her skin was relatively fair and her eyes were a light shade of hazel. He could not say what color hair she had until it dried, but he felt confident she was neither Southron nor Easterling. Still, there was no reason to be overly trusting of this strange girl.

"That's alright," she said in a more even tone, reminding herself not to be rude to the man who saved her life, "I mean, I'm sorry I just don't know where I am or anything. Is there a Renaissance fair going on somewhere or... something?"

"Fair?" he scoffed, "I should think not." Her eyes narrowed. All things considered, now was not the time to make annoying jokes or attempt to "stay in character."

"Whatever..." she muttered. "Do you have a cell phone I could borrow at least?"

"Come again?" he said.

"A phone... if I called my dad I'm sure he would know where this was and he could come pick me up or something," she said impatiently.

"I am not sure what a 'phone' is," he said dismissively, "Have you been injured? Please, you should keep yourself warm." Again he tried to offer her his cloak.

She turned away, holding her hands over her face and growled, "Can you please just knock it off and tell me how to get back into town or whatever?"

"Would that I could," he replied with waning patience, "But it is as I said, I have not seen a single village for many miles."

"What are you even talking about?" she snapped, "How can that even... what..?" she trailed off helplessly.

"Perhaps you are not feeling well... Let me make a fire. Once you warm up and have something to eat you might feel... better," he tried.

"Make a fire?" she asked, turning around and looking at him suspiciously, "Is this a campground or something? Is that where we are? Because I'm pretty sure you can't just go around making fires in the woods..."

"I do not know what you mean," he replied despairingly. His patience was growing thin with the strange woman, but it was not in his heart to turn her away. After all, a noble man like himself would not abandon a helpless woman in the wilderness, especially one that was so obviously disoriented. Perhaps she was ill or hit her head, he reasoned. He had just plucked her from the river...

"Is there really nothing nearby?" she asked quietly, accepting the cloak from him at last. Even a gentle breeze made her skin prickle. How could they not be in any town? It was simply inconceivable to think that there was any unclaimed territory in the United States. Even places that were not technically towns (or cities, or villages, or _something_ ) were at least national parks or native reservations. But even so, she knew of no such place nearby...

"Unfortunately, yes. You must have drifted far," he said, "I have been traveling for weeks and have not seen any villages in at least thirty leagues, perhaps more."

"How many miles is that?" she asked, trying to see if she could remember. Her face relaxed as she considered the conversion.

" _Many_ miles," he said dismissively, "That matters little."

"But wait; is this a park or something?" Eileen tried again.

The man clenched his jaw in aggravation and calmly stated, "No. The best explanation I have is that we are in the wilderness."

"How... I don't understand," Eileen said despondently. She looked down at the ground, frowning sadly as she asked, "Why won't you just tell me where we are? Are you going to murder me, or rape me or something?"

"Murder you?" he huffed angrily, "Why would I pull you from the river if I wanted you dead?"

Immediately guilt washed over her and she apologized, trying to explain, "It's just... we're in the middle of nowhere and you never know these days..." She wrapped her arms around herself protectively. "There are plenty of evil people out there who would hurt you just because they felt like it..."

Whatever anger he felt subsided and he sighed. Her statement was true; a young woman such as herself had every right to be wary of strangers. "I promise I will do you no harm... pardon my rudeness, I have not asked your name," he said softly.

"Eileen," she answered guardedly, "What's your name?"

"Boromir," he answered. Eileen extended her hand for a customary handshake, but instead of shaking it, he brought it to his lips. Surprised and uncomfortable, she quickly pulled her hand back the moment he released it. "It is a pleasure to meet you," he said with a small, forced smile before adding, "Though perhaps not under the best circumstances..."

_A hand shake would have been fine_ , she thought uneasily as she re-wrapped her arms around herself. Maybe he was foreign or something. His accent did sound genuine... but she still couldn't understand why he was dressed that way if there really wasn't a Renaissance fair going on. When she scanned the surrounding area there didn't appear to be anything for miles. What else could she do but trust him? Run off and get eaten by a bear?

"If you'll follow me, I made camp just a little ways into the woods," Boromir said.

"So you _are_ camping?" she asked, breathing a sigh of relief. That would certainly explain a lot. Maybe he liked to rough it and wear old school gear. Hell, if it were more socially acceptable, she'd dress like that every day. He didn't reply but she followed nonetheless. They walked for a few minutes before she saw what he meant by "made camp." There stood a horse in small clearing; no tent, no grill, no path to the other campsites. By the looks of it he had just put out a fire.

"The cinders are still hot, I should be able to get a fire going quickly," he explained, walking away to find kindling. Eileen swallowed and peered up at the sky. When she left home it was early afternoon, but the sun was low in the Eastern sky, as if it were morning now. Had a day passed already? Had she slept the entire day and night before falling? The girl found the situation quite unnerving. She shivered and pulled the cloak tighter around herself before taking inventory of his "camp."

As he mentioned, a small pile of cinders smoked faintly in the middle of the little meadow. Off to the side stood his horse, restlessly shifting his weight from one leg to another. The poor beast waited impatiently, heavily laden with bags and a tightly rolled blanket. All of it felt like a scene from a fantasy novel - a man on an epic journey through the forests on horseback! Eileen approached the horse cautiously, curious to inspect the contents of the man's bags. The horse snorted and flicked his tail. Keeping a distance, she walked to the other side of the beast to find a round shield hanging from it's side. Her eyes widened. Boromir reappeared and she hurriedly stepped back.

"So um..." she said uncertainly, "What... well, what are you doing out in the middle of nowhere like this?"

"I have business nearby," he answered vaguely.

"Okay then," Eileen said skeptically, "But... why are you all by yourself, traveling through the woods and stuff on a horse? Wouldn't it be easier to take a car or something? And why are you dressed like that?"

"A cart?" he asked, shaking his head with disapproval, "There's no need for such excess. It would only slow my pace and draw attention. And I'm dressed for travel, of course, what a ridiculous question..." he muttered.

She wondered if he said "car" or "cart" and how on Earth a car could possibly slow someone down. Maybe he was some kind of hippy..? After all, he was traveling by horseback and making food by fire. She reminded herself once again that he saved her life and to pry so much would be rude. Soon the fire came to life and its warmth was enticing. By this point she didn't care about getting dirty and plopped herself on the ground next to the small pyre. The effect was immediate, and soon she was soothed into a mild sense of security. "Thank you," she said, scooting in closer to the flames. He nodded and handed her a heel of bread along with a small portion of dried meat.

All at once she was struck with a hunger she had not realized before taking her first bite of bread. It took only a few mouthfuls before the bread was gone and quickly she began gnawing on the meat. It was tough but nice and salty. The man watched with both amusement and mild distaste.

"I'm sorry," she said meekly with a small laugh, "I didn't realize how hungry I was."

He smiled sadly and told her, "If we are to make it to our destination that is all I can spare for now."

"So we're really that far from everything?" Eileen asked, her forehead creasing with concern.

"I still have a decent supply of food and I will find some if need be, but yes, we are very far from any place I know," he said grimly.

"I'm sorry for all this trouble," she said. She bit her lip.

"Don't be, it will be nice to have some company," he reassured with a genuine, though weary, smile. He thought for moment before asking, "How was it that you fell into the Loudwater?"

"Loudwater?" Eileen questioned, "I fell in the Du Page River."

"I know for certain this river is not called the 'Du Page,'" he replied with some annoyance.

"Seriously? No, the Du Page turns into the Des Plaines and there is no way I floated that far," Eileen insisted.

"The Loudwater is a very long river, and the Greyflood flows into it, and many little rivers into it," Boromir maintained, "I would not be surprised if your 'Du Page' also met the Loudwater."

"Tsh, what?" Eileen grunted, "When it gets right down to it, it ends up in the Mississippi, and that goes straight down into the ocean."

"I have never heard of this 'Mississippi," Boromir said with equal agitation.

"How can you be in the United States and not know about the Mississippi?" Eileen challenged haughtily.

"United States? I have heard of no such place and I will not tolerate this foolishness!" Boromir snapped.

Eileen stared at him wide-eyed like he was completely nuts. He was giving her an equally shocked look, suggesting that it was she who was nuts. "You're speaking English, how do you not know about the United States? Is this some kind of stupid joke?" Eileen snapped back.

"We are speaking in the Common Tongue of Middle Earth," Boromir corrected, trying to calm his own temper, "And we are, from what I can guess, far North of both Gondor and Rohan. There is no such place as the 'United States,' and the river you were floating in is the Loudwater." If she was messing with him he would not have it. Not during this long, exhausting journey that seemed to have no end, feeling utterly isolated and lost. He was uncertain of so many things lately, but he did know that she was speaking nonsense.

"That's not funny," Eileen said unhappily with a deep set frown, "It's really not."

"Do I look amused to you?" he asked harshly, "I'm not." He stared at her, jaw tight, waiting for her stubborn, imprudent rebuttal. She seemed at a loss for words and her frown grew deeper while her eyes glazed over. "You're being sincere?" he asked more coolly.

She nodded, afraid to speak lest her voice reveal how close she was to tears. She took a breath and carefully said, "And you, too?"

"Perhaps... you are ill," he suggested with some concern in his voice. "A fever may change many thoughts," he reasoned. He strode to her place by the fire and squatted down to feel her face and forehead. If there was a subtle fever he never would have sensed it, but her skin blazed under his touch though she was shivering. He grimaced and sighed, standing once more to retrieve his water skin. "I plan to follow the river for some time so we will have plenty of water. Drink," he ordered.

Without question she drank and watched as he searched his supplies. It was true; there was nothing about the area that was familiar to her home state of Illinois. When she looked into to the East, was that the silhouette of a mountain she saw through the trees? There were absolutely no mountains in Illinois, none near the Mississippi that she could recall. Valley's and Starved Rock, sure, but those were not like the mountain range she now saw. Where he Hell was she? Her thoughts were interrupted when Boromir brought out a rough blanket and handed it to her.

"Are you warm?" he asked once she wrapped herself up. She nodded and took another sip of water.

"I suppose we shall wait until you have rested and dried some," he decided. Eileen nodded and sat silently, watching the flames dance, taking sips from the water skin until she was overcome by sleep.

_~~~~~~~~Dream Sequence~~~~~~~~_

Eileen stood upon a desolate, ruined land where he only source of light came from of a fire hot and terrible. Her face glowed orange in the dim light that drew ever nearer. She flinched against the growing heat but could not take a single step away. The flames grew larger, and at the center of the fireball she saw a void blacker than any night sky and more sinister than her darkest fears. She heard a deep, inhuman voice speaking in tongues she could not understand. Then it hissed in the common tongue, "Come to me... come to me or perish." The great fireball drew closer until it enclosed her and burned the flesh from her bones...

~~~~~~~~ _End Dream Sequence_ ~~~~~~~

"I am sorry to wake you, but we must move on," a vaguely familiar voice said. She dimly perceived that she was, indeed, not aflame, but lying on the ground, tightly wrapped in the scratchy blanket. Though she was not on fire, she felt so hot she may as well have been... Boromir nudged her again and repeated, "Come, we must go." Awareness returned and she sucked in a breath as if she had been holding it for some time. She sat up and he could see her forehead shining with sweat. Completely out of breath, heart pounding she stared at Boromir for a few moments. "Are you alright?" he asked.

She held her head in her hand and shook her head, "It was just a dream, that's all... a weird dream." He leaned forward and touched her face.

"I had hoped your fever would break by sunset," he said with disappointment.

"Did you just say sunset?" she asked frantically. She looked around and realized the sun had already started to sink, "Did you let me sleep all day?"

"Yes, I presumed if you had ample time to rest you would feel well enough that we would not have to stop again," he explained.

"That makes sense," she mumbled, "But that means... oh man, people are going to worry when I don't come home. I hope Derek doesn't think I'm ditching him... I could go for that beer right about now..."

"Let us not dwell on such things, we must be moving on," Boromir said sternly as he stood. She frowned and slowly managed to stand. Already Boromir put out the fire and packed all but the blanket. "Come, I will help you ahorse," he said motioning to her. Swiftly he rolled and tied the blanket before securing it with the rest of his belongings. He helped her climb into the saddle and once she was firmly settled, Boromir climbed up behind her and took the reins.

"Forgive me for this familiarity," the man said stiffly.

"Huh? Oh... whatever," she murmured. He kicked the horse into a steady trot, and so began the girl's long journey through Middle Earth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note that I do intend to follow the **book cannon** for the most part. There are a few scenes from the movies that I thought were fun, like that drinking game between Legolas and Gimli in the third film. I also decided to let Boromir keep his horse... I hope you'll forgive me for that detail. Thank you for reading!


	3. Fitz and the Dizzyspells

Time passed uneventfully as they continued to follow the Loudwater North. In the beginning, Eileen made a marked effort to avoid as much bodily contact as possible, hunching forward while they travelled by horseback. Boromir said very little and maintained a demeanor of sterile courtesy. If there were any signs of civilization, Eileen could not detect them. All around them were the untamed woods and the aptly named Loudwater. Ever in the distance the mountains loomed to the East.

Not a moment went by without the girl thinking of food, or her saddle sores and stiff, aching muscles. Absently she wiped the sweat from her brow – on top of hunger and pain, her fever refused to break. Days had passed and they were yet to reach their destination in this land where people spoke English but didn't know of the United States. A few times she tried to bring it up with Boromir, but he responded by telling her she was "welcome search for the United States" herself. _How could this have happened?_  she wondered endlessly. She entertained herself with her imagination as the dull hours passed, toying with the idea that maybe, just maybe, she had found her way into some other world, like she read about in fantasy novels and fanfiction…

Perhaps she had become accustomed to her travel companion, perhaps she was too lost in thought to remember his presence, but one afternoon she began to hum quietly. A faint smile crept across the man's face, and softly he asked, "What are you humming?"

"Oh," she breathed, and let out a sheepish laugh, "Just some song..."

"Are there words?" he asked.

"Well, yea..." she answered cautiously.

"A song may help to pass the time," he suggested.

"What about being all stealthy and stuff?" she reminded him sourly. If ever she tried to make conversation he would scold her about the importance passing through the wilderness unnoticed. God only knew what he kept on the look-out for. As far as she knew, the only threats they faced were bears and wolves, perhaps mountain lions depending on the region, but wouldn't the noise frighten such animals away? Thinking about the carnivorous beasts possibly prowling around made her question her assumptions… She swallowed nervously.

"So long as you refrain from belting, I imagine we will still go unnoticed," he reasoned.

"The only person to ever tell me I was good at singing is helplessly in love with me," Eileen said sadly, thinking of her friends and family back home. Derek, the one who thought she had a beautiful voice, must have grown worried the moment she didn't show up to his house that evening or answer his texts for that matter. When Free Pie Wednesday rolled around, Maggie and their friends would wonder where she was and why she suddenly fell off the face of the Earth. And what about work? Poor Karah would have to assemble charts all alone... Then there was the bike shop, too. On the bright side she was planning on quitting anyways, or would she? At least classes were out…

"I am also not very good at singing," he admitted, "Be that as it may, I think it would be nice to hear a song."

"Don't say I didn't warn you," she said reluctantly.

"Fair enough."

She opened her mouth to begin, then hesitated, cleared her throat, then hesitated again. She shifted anxiously in the saddle, and then glanced back at him with a disgruntled expression. For the first time in the days they had traveled together, his smile reached his eyes. "I'm not going to make you," he laughed.

"I'll do it, I'll do it," she insisted, "I just... I need a minute, and I'll do it."

"As you say," he replied with doubt and amusement. A long pause followed, and he wondered whether or not she would actually sing. Just when he felt certain she would not, quietly she began:

Comes and goes,  
Like the fitz and dizzyspells, like the weather,  
And it blows,  
Like it knows what's going wrong, like its clever,  
Has a name, oh but the name goes unspoken  
Weather vanes, oh, are all twisted and broken.  
So soldier on, soldier on,  
Soldier on, soldier on.  
Flaring to the whirr of a snack machine,  
Muted screams of an old regime,  
And then oh, something gets in,  
The nightshade gets in it.  
And we were all fast asleep,  
We were all so fast asleep,  
But you woke up, you woke up from the strangest dream,  
That an aubergine could ever know,  
Would ever know, would ever know.

Though her voice quavered in the beginning, she felt a lightening of heart as her song went on. Of course she was no Kelly Clarkson, but she hit most of the notes and kept a consistent pace. She even whistled the short interlude between lyrics before she continued singing:

Lava flows over crooks and craggy cliffs to the ocean,  
And explodes in a steam heat fevered cyclical motion,  
Has a name but the name goes unspoken,  
It's in vain 'cause that language is broken,  
So cast your own, cast your own,  
Cast your own, cast your own,  
Soldier on, soldier on, soldier on, soldier on,  
Soldier on, soldier on, soldier on, soldier on.

(Fitz and the Dizzyspells, Andrew Bird)

When she finished Boromir raised a brow and stated, "That song did not make sense. Did you compose it yourself?"

"No!" she said defensively, her cheeks burning with embarrassment, "I didn't write it... and... the lyrics are  _cryptic_ ,  _not_  nonsensical, and-"

"You sing just fine," he interrupted, "I thought it would be much worse with the fuss you made... despite the words…"

"Eh... I..." she stammered, then her shoulders sank and she replied, "Thanks, I guess..."

"You should sing another," he said.

"Why don't you sing the next one?" she grumbled, still flustered by his previous comment. Eileen felt surprised when Boromir did not hesitate to oblige. He began to sing of a place called the "White City," filled with references to people and events Eileen did not understand, but she appreciated the song nonetheless. The song was long and began to tell a tale of a battle long ago, and brotherhood and honor. Soon she found herself overcome with drowsiness, and her lids began to fall. Slowly she started to lean back against Boromir. For once she did not jolt forward on contact. Her head lolled back just below his chin and he could hear the girl's breaths grow long and deep. She was asleep. He sighed knowing he would have to be extra careful not to let her fall and wrapped an arm about her torso. She mumbled incomprehensibly, then reached up and held his arm with hers, nuzzling her face into his chest. For the moment she was spared of her horrific dream, it seemed…

Next she knew a warm hand gripped her shoulder, shaking her gently. Her eyes opened listlessly and she vaguely perceived that all the previous events were real. She was still in the woods on a horse with Boromir. She sucked in a breath and rubbed her eyes with her forearm. "What time is it?" she asked groggily.

"Nearing sunset," Boromir answered, "We must make camp."

In other words, she needed to climb off the horse. She nodded and sat up straight, and then Boromir dismounted behind her. He offered an arm to help her down and she took it, stumbling when her feet hit the ground. Wordlessly he helped steady her and then began to set up camp. Eileen stood scratching her arm, feeling useless and sleepy.

"Hey... um, do you want some help?" she asked in a raspy, half-awake voice, hoping in part that he would decline.

He lifted his head and glanced back at her with interest. "Alright," he said after a few moments, "A small sack to your left has fodder for the horse. See that he is fed."

She gave a half-hearted nod and turned to search for the small bag of horse fodder. She pulled a handful of timothy hay from the sack and stepped towards the front of the beast. It nuzzled into her hand impatiently and she laughed.

"Chill out, you'll have your dinner," she said as she opened her fist. Hastily the creature snatched a mouthful from her hand. As the horse ate she giggled, the gentle nibbles tickling her palm. "I bet you're as hungry as I am..." she murmured. It wasn't long before the horse finished his meager meal, but that didn't stop him from bumping her hand expectantly. "I don't have anymore," she laughed. The horse whinnied and nudged her face, causing her to stumble back. "Hey, hey, I know you're hungry but that's all I have," she said as she stepped away.

She approached Boromir who had a portion of food waiting for her. "Agh, I have horse spit on my face," she complained humorously, trying to wipe it off on the sleeve of her hoody. Boromir smiled, his face was lit up with amusement. "Oh, is that funny?" Eileen asked, using her hand to wipe the last of the saliva from her cheek then quickly smearing it against Boromir's shoulder. He eyed her dryly.

"Well," he said, "It's not as if my cloak were clean before you so graciously shared that with me."

"You're no fun to pick on," she snorted as she plopped on the ground next to him. He grunted and began to eat his portion of stale bread and hard cheese. She watched him thoughtfully as she chewed, and it didn't take long for him to notice.

"What is it?" he asked.

"Oh... nothing," she said, diverting her gaze.

"Hm."

She leaned back and took the final bite of bread, swallowing as she pulled her knees to her chest. "I keep asking myself how I ended up here," she said at length, "I mean... one minute I'm sitting in a tree a few miles from home, and next I know I'm... out in the middle of nowhere. I just don't understand what happened."

Boromir looked up and appeared to be thinking. After a short pause he said, "Many say the same after they have been uprooted by orc raids. In my country, attack on my people is not uncommon. It can happen so suddenly."

"Whoa, whoa, orc raids?" Eileen said doubtfully, "Orcs aren't real..."

"If you have spent your whole life without having encountered those vile creatures, you have lived a comfortable life indeed," Boromir said with agitation.

"Come on, I mean... they're just in books and video games, you know?" she replied.

"Again, you are speaking nonsense," Boromir said matter-of-factly.

"I'm not," she argued, "How do you know  _you're_  not the one 'speaking nonsense?'" mimicking his accent on the last two words.

"Please correct me if I am wrong, but were you not the one who was nearly drowned and cannot recall how you came to be here? Are you not the one who hasn't the slightest idea as to where we are, even as we speak?" Boromir said evenly.

"Well... I..." she stammered, mouth opening and closing like a fish. She sank forward and held her legs tighter. "I'm just so confused... what if... what if I really  _did_ hit my head? What if my memory is all fucked up and I don't even know it? How can I get home if… if I don't know where it is?" she said miserably.

Boromir's features softened. He was no stranger to the aftermath of war. Orphaned children, widows and widowers, daughters kidnapped and raped, families scattered, homes and crops burnt to the ground, starvation, disease… beneath his tough exterior it pained him to see his people harmed. After all, wasn't that the reason he fought in this war, the very reason for making the long, arduous journey to Rivendell? Watching her agonize over her current situation struck a note on his heartstrings. Minus the lip piercing, her features suggested Gondorian heritage. If he claimed to fight for his people, did he not also fight for her as well?

"I will take you back home," Boromir answered, "When my business is done and I make the return journey, you may travel with me back to Gondor."

"Wh… you would do that?" she asked uncertainly, "But what if-"

"I assure you, the place we are headed is not where you or I belong. I think you would recognize your home and family if you saw them," Boromir went on, "If not, there are places you can stay at the very least, until your memory is restored."

She gave a faint smile and said sheepishly, "That makes me feel a lot better. Thanks."

"I'm glad," he said kindly. For a fleeting moment he looked as though he might yawn. They traveled many long hours together and she had never witnessed a single yawn from him.

"You look tired," she said after a pause.

"Do I?" he asked impassively.

"Why not let me take first watch?" she offered, "I've been sleeping just about all day. I mean, honestly you could probably sleep all night if you wanted."

"You can keep watch," he began, "But you must wake me in a few hours."

"Why?" she asked, "Seriously, I can stay up tonight. I don't know how you keep moving without getting any sleep."

"It is not my intent to insult you, but I must admit I do not trust you to stay awake the whole night through," he replied "That aside, I get plenty of rest," he added stubbornly.

"Oh, alright," she said with feigned disappointment. She uncrossed her fingers behind her back when she finished speaking. Now more than ever she wanted to be helpful. A full night's rest would do him good, even if he didn't know it. When he lay down to sleep, Eileen promised herself she would not let herself fall asleep nor wake him to take watch until the sun began to rise. Instead of the usual hour or so, Eileen let him sleep until she saw the sun creeping over the horizon. She crawled to him and carefully nudged him awake.

"I'm sorry, I let you sleep through the night," Eileen whispered, nudging his back ever so gently. He was roused easily and sat up, giving her a cool stare all the while.

"You must wake me to take watch. If you grow too tired and fall asleep we will be left unprotected," he lectured as they packed up.

"If you were traveling alone for so long, how did you sleep before?" Eileen asked crossing her arms, "You can't just stay awake all the time."

"I kept hidden," he answered, "And never slept long. Now quit dallying and come here."

"I just think it would make more sense for me to sleep all day and for you to sleep all night," Eileen persisted as he helped her climb onto the horse. With ease he climbed into the saddle behind her.

"You must be tired," Boromir said, "Rest."

"Trying to shut me up, aye?" Eileen said jokingly, but confessed, "I am tired, though..." She let out a long yawn and leaned back against him, allowing sleep to take hold. When she awoke, the sun was high in the afternoon sky. Faint yellow beams of sunlight crept through the forest canopy. She reached up to brush some hair from her face and found that her skin was still hot and damp. It would seem she burned not only in that same, horrific dream, but also in the waking world. Though mild, her fever refused to break. She rubbed the sleep from her eyes.

"You are awake," Boromir stated rather than asked. She nodded and mumbled something indiscernible. "Did you sleep well?"

"I think so..." she answered drowsily.

"I feared you would fall from the horse if I did not keep hold of you, you tossed and turned so," Boromir said.

"Really?" Eileen asked, and then quietly added, "Probably that awful dream I keep having."

"You have had the same dream more than once?" Boromir asked with concern.

"Yea, it's like every time I go to sleep," she explained.

"What happens?" he probed.

"I didn't pin you for the dream interpretation type," she snorted.

"Sometimes there is meaning to be found in dreams. Granted most dreams mean nothing, but some are worth delving into," he maintained.

"Look, I have a bachelor's degree in psychology and so far, research has not come to any significant conclusion about the meaning or purpose of dreams," she said haughtily.

"You have a  _what_?" he asked skeptically.

"I studied psychology in school for four years," she elaborated, "You know, the human mind and human behavior."

"As you say," he said doubtfully, "Regardless, I am still interested in this dream of yours."

"Alright, alright. It feels like I'm in this post-apocalyptic wasteland and there's this big, fiery eye that tells me something in like... demon language or something, and then he says, 'Come to me or you'll perish,'" Eileen elaborated somewhat nonchalantly. Boromir halted the horse.

"Fiery eye..?" Boromir said with trepidation.

"And then I'm surrounded by fire. No matter what I do I can't turn or run or anything," she went on.

"Up to this point you have said many strange things, and I understand that you are quite disoriented, but… you must tell me what you know of the Eye," Boromir said.

" _The_ Eye?" Eileen repeated, "You say it like it's a thing.

"I am making no jest with you, this is very serious," Boromir reprimanded.

"I… I don't know anything about it. It's as new to me as the 'Loudwater' or 'Gondor,'" she said.

"How many times have you dreamt this?" Boromir prodded.

"Every time I sleep," she answered quietly, "Why? You're freaking me out, what does it mean?"

"You'll be alright," Boromir said reassuringly, as much to himself as to her. He kicked the horse back into a slow trot.

"Seriously, you are freaking. Me. Out. What does it mean?" she demanded.

Again, they stopped. He released the reigns and gripped her shoulders. "You mustn't go to him," Boromir said sternly, "If you are frozen in place, then all the better. Do not go to him."

"Stop it," she snapped, "You're scaring me, this isn't funny."

"I am not trying to frighten you," Boromir said gently as he released her shoulders. They began moving forward once more. "We mustn't speak of this again, just remember what I told you," he said with finality.

Hours went by in silence. Eileen's dream replayed in her mind over and over and the dark, terrible voice echoed in her ears.  _Dreams are just your mind preening your neurological connections, breaking down less efficient bonds and replacing them with faster ones. This isn't Freddy Krueger; Boromir's just being a jerk. I don't believe him for a minute,_  she repeated to herself.

"I have been meaning to ask you," Boromir began suddenly, breaking the long silence, "About your piercings."

"My piercings?" Eileen said, her voice brightening, "What about them?"

"Why do you have them?" he inquired bluntly.

"Why do people have their earlobes pierced or wear jewelry?" Eileen countered, practiced at answering such questions.

"A variety of reasons, I am sure," Boromir replied, "I am not accustomed to wearing jewels myself."

"Well these aren't jewels, just stainless steel," Eileen explained proudly, "And I like the way they look, to answer your question."

"One does not often see such piercings," Boromir said, then added sourly, "Save for the Haradrim. When I first pulled you from the river, I took you for one of them, but your features suggested otherwise."

"Who are the Haruh...drim?" Eileen asked.

"Southron savages," Boromir spat in disgust, "Have you never encountered them before? They are wont to attack and pillage..."

"Never seen 'em in the United States," Eileen said shrugging.

"On with that again?" Boromir said gruffly, "I assure you, there is no such place. If I were wiser I might take you for some kind of spy..."

"Hah! That's pretty funny," Eileen huffed, "If  _I_ were wiser I might have taken you for some crazy hobo."

"I do not appreciate that in the least," Boromir said dourly.

"You started it!" Eileen pouted, "I'm not a spy or a Hardim or whatever."

Boromir snorted back some laughter and shook his head, correcting, "Har _adrim_."

"Yea, like I said," Eileen said flippantly, "Har... adrim."

"Either you're a brilliant spy or you are the most ignorant girl I have ever met..."

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!


End file.
